Mortality
by conkreen
Summary: Companion piece to Immortal. Badou knows he's mortal. So why is it that no one else around him seems to remember that? Blood, voilence, death, swearing, and little bit of HainexBadou at the end. Rated M for safety.


Title: Mortality  
Author: conkreen  
Pairing/Characters: Badou, Haine, Nill, and Bishop. Little bit of HainexBadou at the end.  
Rating: Somewhere between T and R for swearing, blood, and death.  
Warnings: Blood, cussing, death, semi-AU/AR, no spoilers that I know of.  
Word Count: 1,840  
Disclaimer: I do not own DOGS. DOGS belongs to the wonderful, awesome Shirow Miwa.  
Summary: Badou knows he's mortal. So why is it that no one else around him seems to remember that? Tiny bit of HainexBadou at the end.

A/N: This oneshot came to me after I got it into my head one day that Haine was an immortal. Then that made me wonder how he would react to the others dying, practically Badou. And that got me thinking about an AU/reincarnation fic that I'm thinking about writing. The reincarnation fic would include: Haine's view/reaction to Badou's death, the others' reactions to Badou's death, Haine's reactions to the others dying, and Haine's meeting of the reincarnated cast. It would also have more HainexBadou including more details on their current (past?) relationship, future (present?) relationship, and… be lemon flavored(?)… maybe if I get the courage. Well, anyway, the only thing that story wouldn't have in it would be this, Badou's own thoughts of his death.

I still can't believe I actually wrote this… This the first time I have ever written a fanfic. I had trouble with the swearing, I'm not used to putting swearwords in my writing, so I had to keep going back and adding them in. I feel bad about killing off Badou, even if I think that Badou would die before Haine and be lucky if he lived to be Mihai's age. I love Badou, I really do. Also, I really don't think I did Badou justice. Anyways I've rambled long enough. On with the fic!

* * *

**Mortality**

Badou was always, _always _very much aware of his own mortality.

It was something that he was sure the people around him often forgot, especially Haine. Haine, with his goddamn super healing abilities. Yeah, Haine often forgot about the limitations of fucking normal people. OK, OK, so Badou couldn't _really _be considered a _normal _person. What with his fucking violent nicotine fits, but he still had the same body as normal person, albeit a very thin one.

Actually Haine was the major reason most of their pseudo family forgot about his mortality. Seeing as Badou and Haine where often seen together especially in battle. Once again it was those _goddamn_ fucking healing abilities. It was because of Mr. Shoot-me-in-the-ass-and-I'll-be-healed-in-ten-fucking-seconds-and-I-won't-have-even-a-goddamn-scar. Yeah, it was mostly because no matter what happened to Haine, he would always be back up and fighting seconds later, if he even fell down at all. The rest of it was because he was admittedly piss-ass crazy when he was having a nicotine fit. Although the fits did come in handy when they where knee deep in shit.

But Badou never forgot, mostly for the same reason everyone else did. When one was constantly around Haine you couldn't help noticing your own mortality (practically in a gunfight, or fistfight, or a shootout, or a hostage situation, or in a conflict the mob or a gang). Not that he really _needed_ Haine to remind he of his mortality, he was always so _fucking_ aware, too fucking aware of mortality after he lost his brother.

Another reminder comes with the cigarettes. He has long since gotten used the burn of smoke entering his lungs. He fucking revels in it now, and really any smoke will do (but fucking gun smoke and cigarette smoke will _always_ be the best). He had started after the lost of his brother partially as a reminder of Dave, partially because he had wanted to die, but didn't have the goddamned courage to commit suicide. Not that he wanted to die anymore, no, he really was in no hurry to die (even though he always found himself in situation that most people would have fucking died in). And of course with the others (mostly Haine, sometime a random stranger) always reminding him that "those things will fuckn' kill you." Badou would always take a long drag from his cancer stick, make sure he blew smoke right in their face, and say with a shiteating grin, "I'll be lucky if it's the smoke that kills me."

Yeah, Badou knew that he was mortal, and despite his luck and Haine helping him whenever he got into trouble, he knew that he was gunna someday. It didn't matter what the shit he did he was mortal and all mortals fucking died.

* * *

It was a normal job for Badou and Haine. One involving the mob, gun smoke, and a _hell_ of a lot of bullets. They of course had taken care of the bastards (about twenty or so), but not before Haine had been pumped full of lead and Badou had gone bat-shit psycho from lack of nicotine. When all enemies AKA those shit-faced bastards that stood between him and smokes, where finally dead or at least dying, Badou was free to scrounge for his beloved cigarettes. It wasn't hard to find one, after all lots of mobsters smoked. Badou quickly abandoned his pair of MAC10s in favor of lighting a slightly blood spattered cigarette.

Badou took a long drag form his newly acquired smoke, his adrenalin rush dying and his mentality returning along with the nicotine running through his veins. He was about to let out an annoying, as Haine would say, "Ahh, man that's good!" When pain suddenly slammed into him hard, as if he had driven a car going 80mph straight into a mother fucking reinforced concrete wall. So instead he released a startled and pained gasp. His cigarette fell listlessly as his knees gave in, his arm quickly wrapping around his stomach, as his damned boney knees hit the fucking uneven pavement with shuddering force.

He could feel it now the warm, wet, deep_deep_ red seeping from his body. He could feel the pain, and blood flowing from each goddamn bullet wound. Badou could tell there were a lot of bullet wounds, each one sent fucking razor sharp pain shooting though his nerves, from his abdomen, back, arms, and legs. He could feel each and every-fucking-one but he didn't know how many there were. Badou found he could breath surprisingly well. It seemed as if by some miracle (or curse) none of his multiple bullet wounds had pierced his lungs.

Suddenly Haine was crouched down before him. Badou could see the concern and panic in those eyes that were the same shade of red as the blood spilling from Badou's body. Panic and concern that only those who knew Haine extremely well would be able to see (the number of which could, could be counted on one goddamned hand). Badou gave a shaky grin in an attempt to reassure the albino.

"It hurts," the words seemed to leave Badou mouth without any conscious thought. He meant to say something to calm his white haired partner, but instead the partially hidden worry in those bloody eyes increased. Badou understood why, Haine didn't really know what to do in times like these. Haine was so used his wounds healing only few moments after he was injured to know any more than basic first aid. Not that he hadn't see Badou hurt before. The jobs they did were more often than not fucking dangerous, and it wasn't uncommon for Badou to end up with a bullet wound, broken bone, or a long thin slice for a sword or knife. At those times Haine would take a bitching Badou (helping him only if necessary) to get him patched up at either the church or Buon Viaggio, or occasionally to Granny Liza's, whichever was closest.

Badou's pain addled mind briefly registered that the lack of cussing and complaining probably only increased his partner's worry. After all Badou was known to bitch about any injury, no matter how small, and milk it for all that it was worth (and more if he could get away with it). Badou felt Haine's gun callused hand (how did he even have damn calluses with those fucking healing abilities?) wrap around his wrist gently (a goddamned miracle from Haine) and pulled his arm away from his heavily bleeding stomach. Haine's apprehensive crimson eyes told Badou that it was as mother fucking bad, if not worst then what it felt like.

Badou wanted to say something to calm Haine, to reassure them both that everything was going to be fine, but he couldn't seem to form anymore words. It didn't really matter though, because Haine had already decided to take action. Haine maneuvered Badou as carefully (once again a _goddamn_ miracle) as possible onto he back, with Badou's arms over his shoulders and skinny legs crooked over his arms. Haine then carried Badou towards the church as fast as possible (as it was the closest), it wasn't that hard after all as Haine was fucking stronger than normal and Badou was lighter than he damn well should be.

The only sounds made as Haine carried them to the house of God (yeah, fucking right) was the heavy clunk of Haine's boots, panting breathes (Haine's from running and Badou's softer and laced with pain), and gasps or moans from Badou whenever he was jarred. Then Haine was sprinting up the steps to the heavy oak doors of the church. After reaching the top of the stairs, a bulky black boot delivered a swift, strong kick to the craved slab of wood. The kicked door slammed open with aloud BANG!

"Bishop! Nill!" Haine cried out to the blind Bishop (blind my fucking ass) and girl with genetically manufactured wings (she a real damn angel, even if she was manufactured). They rushed Badou to the church's medical room. It wasn't until he was laid down on the medical table (he always wondered why the fucking _hell _did a church have medical table not to mention all the other medical supplies) that finally got a look at Bishop and Nill. Bishop looked unusually serious and Nill looked like she was about to go into a nervous and paniced fit.

Haine immediately took out one of his knives and cut open Badou's shirt (he knew to that much at least) and remove it. Bishop and Nill were getting out various medical supplies as Haine took a pair of forceps (pulled out only seconds before by Bishop) and started to remove the bullets from Badou. Badou could hear the plick, plick of the bullets as they were deposited into a metal pan. As Haine was removing the bullets from his abdomen, Bishop has taken Haine's knife and was giving Badou's pants the same treatment as his shirt. Bishop stepped off to the side near Nill after removing the remainder of his pants, leaving Badou in only his boxers and eyepatch.

"Nill, we need you to sew up Badou's wounds, okay?" he heard Bishop say to the mute girl, as Haine moved to remove bullets from his legs. He couldn't see what her response was, but could tell what it was when the girl moved into his line of vision. He watch with blurring vision as the angel took up the medical tread and a traumatic needle(1) and started on sewing up the bullet wounds in his abdomen. Badou imagined that poor, sweet, little Nill was feeling quite nauseous about stitching up his flesh. Unfortunately Nill was the only one who knew how to fucking sew besides himself. Badou had taught her how to sew, so he knew she would do a damn good job on the sutures.

Haine moved to Badou's side after removing all of the fucking bullets from his body (except for the ones in his back). The albino pick up the Badou's right hand and traced the scar on the back of his hand. Haine leaned over Badou and placed a soft kiss on the redhead's lips. Badou was then vaguely aware of Haine whispering reassuring words to him as well as the new spot of wetness on his cheek that he somehow knew wasn't his… (Was Haine crying? He never seen Haine cry.) His vision was becoming nothing more than a jumble of colors with darkness closing in. He had no clue how much time had pasted, but he could feel the now far off pain of Nill working on the wounds on his legs.

He was dying, he knew it, and he knew that mother fucking reaper was just waiting to get its damn hands on him. Oh well, he knew that this was going to come sooner or later. He was mortal after all and all mortals fucking died. But before he died he had one last request for his albino partner.

"Hey, immortal, gimme a kiss goodbye?"

**End**

* * *

(1) Traumatic needles as far as I can tell are curve shaped needles that are specially made for sutures. They have an eye that need to be threaded before the sutures are made. There are also atraumatic needles, they are eyeless and already come treaded. Atraumatic needle are the what are normally used for stitches because they cause less damage to the flesh. If there is anyone who knows medicine please correct me if I am wrong.

A/N: Reviews are always welcome. Thanks for reading.


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